


911

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crossover, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-29
Updated: 2005-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to For Emergencies Only and Check-ins</p>
            </blockquote>





	911

## 911

by dehc

<http://dehcs.blogspot.com>

* * *

Title: Home Sick  
Author: dehc  
Rating: Pg 13  
Summary: Sequel to For Emergencies Only. A crossover with Batman. 

Home Sick. 

4 weeks 

As Clark perfectly executed the complicated defensive fall and recovery maneuver, Bruce watched him with concern. 

"Excellent, now that will work if you're only dropping a distance of fifteen to twenty feet. For recovering from higher falls, you will need to develop different strategies, based on your surroundings." 

As he circled Clark, pressing and gesturing his new student into different defensive positions, Bruce divided his attention between his lecture and his study of the young man. Although only a month had passed, the young man had changed so drastically that Bruce was beginning to suspect a medical cause for his change. 

Not that Clark was demonstrating any overt signs of illness or injuries. Quite to the contrary, As they sparred, the fabulous strength that Clark displayed when they first met still seemed prominant enought that Bruce was almost certain that the young man was holding back. His speed and reflexes were astounding, he learned complex maneuvers with less than an hour's practice, and Bruce was certain that with 4 to 6 more months of training, Clark could actually transcend his own mastery of martial arts - requiring training that a only a very few living masters could give. After observing Clark's progress over the month, in fact, Bruce was already consulting two of his mentors on the young man's training schedule. 

In addition to Clark's physical training, his general endurance and focus seemed almost inexhaustable. Waking in the pre-dawn hours, Clark regularly filled his twenty to twenty-two hour days with intense workouts, well beyond what Bruce required and concentrated study sessions progressing rapidly through the syllabi that Bruce had saved from the first year of his MBA. In short, the young man seemed as driven as Bruce, and Bruce could well understand why. This wasn't the source of his concern. 

Instead, it was the paradoxic feeling he was beginning to have more and more frequently that Clark seemed to be trying to conserve every ounce of energy. While still naturally graceful, Clark's movements were becoming spartan and tightly controlled. And, it showed in every movement. Instead of the bouyant puppy-like nods that were his frequent response to any request, now Clark more often gave a clipped nod that someone could easily miss if not watching him directly. He lengthened his stride to take one step where he would have taken three. His humor though still as prevelant were coming in quieter and briefer bursts and his accompanying smiles was rapidly diminishing from full grins to thin lipped smiles that never reached his eyes. 

Somehow, even though Bruce knew that Clark was probably suffering from depression due to his exile from Smallville, his family, and friends, he was beginning that believe that depression was not the sole cause of Clark's change. 

9 weeks. 

As Bruce stared at the ID photo that he had taken when Clark first arrived, he wondered how, as a detective and a scientist, he had failed to even recognize Clark's physical decline. The signs of that decline were very apparent from the picture, or rather were made obvious by what was missing from the picture: Clark's recent gauntness, bruised eyes, and jaundiced skin. But, despite Bruce's nagging concern for Clark's health, he had practically missed the clues. Despite Clark's declining appetite, Bruce had merely attributed Clark's weight loss to the intense work outs that the young man still performed and the vigorous martial arts training sessions that the he still excelled in. The wide grey circles, which were dark enough to have been painted under his eyes, Bruce had attributed to the Clark's consistent habit of studying late into the evening. And Clark's fading skin-tone seemed the natural result of spending every waking hour in the castle--although even Bruce would have preferred for Clark to have taken more down time, he understood as well as Clark that the young man's stay at Wayne Manor was drawing to a close. 

Clark would be welcomed back at the manor anytime, but it was becoming more and more apparent that Lionel suspected Bruce and Lex of engineering Clark's escape. And, they both knew that was only a matter of time before Lionel would build up the nerve to send a team into the manor to search for Clark. Although it went unsaid, Bruce was absolutely certain that Clark was as unwilling as he was to expose the manors' secrets, and he both approved of and appreciated Clark's intensified efforts to prepare himself. 

Or more to the point, Bruce had approved of Clark's efforts until that morning when, in the middle of a simple warm-up stretch, Clark collapsed and had to have Bruce's help to stagger to his room. Half an hour later, he was up again apologizing for his momentary weakness, but Bruce refused to be persuaded to restart the morning's training and banned Clark from anything but reading in the library. That was three hours ago. After settling Clark in the library, under Alfred's watchful eye, Bruce had returned to the batcave to finish the last of packet of documents for Clark's new identity. 

Even then he had initially missed the seeing - really seeing - the three-month-old image of Clark, until he was checking the false ID for errors, and realized his mistake. 

12 weeks. 

As Bruce returned from patrol early at Alfred's summons, he was angrily steeling himself for yet another argument with the young man. In the month since Clark's first collapse, it had become increasingly more difficult to contain the young man even though he was visibly deteriorating on an almost daily basis. When Bruce cut back on Clark's training sessions, he discovered the young man in the gym pushing himself in ever harder combinations of complex maneuvers adding height, distance, and speed until Bruce wasn't even certain who would have won if they were evenly matched in strength and speed. When he declared the gym off limits, he immediately began to hear treads through out the manor as Clark turned it's mostly empty hallways into marathon tracks and pushed himself even harder. And when he demanded that Clark submit to a doctors visit from a trusted physician, he and Clark had their first argument- it lasted for over two hours and left both men practically exhausted. 

Ironically, even in his weakening condition, it was clearly apparent that Clark's strength and speed far out-stripped Bruce's own- even more so because it was equally obvious that Clark was holding back. And, due to his recent mood swings, that fact was dwelling on Bruce's mind. It wasn't that he believed Clark would ever attempt to harm Alfred, Dick, or himself. Instead, with Lionel's increasing surveillance of the manor, Bruce was worried that Clark would finally lose his patience with the whole concept of being exiled, and take out his frustration on one of Lionel's employee's. 

But, as he stepped off of the elevator from the batcave, scanning the hallway- he realized his second mistake. If Clark had building up for an argument, he would have called himself and he would have met Bruce at the elevator. Bruce almost smiled at that thought. Clark was still a little in awe of Bruce as the Batman, and although he knew the truth of their identities, he always showed the utmost respect to Bruce when he was in costume. Clark never intruded on the Batman's inner sanctum to argue, and never argued with Batman, only with Bruce. It was both a comforting and an amusing detail of their relationship, that helped Bruce understand what Lex may have enjoyed in Clark's friendship. 

With Clark, when Bruce was out of costume, he didn't feel like the Batman or the billionaire or the industrialist or even the scientist... he was simply Bruce, the friend, mentor, and guardian of a young man who was trying very hard to be up to the nearly impossible challenge of taking Lionel Luthor on and winning. 

Of a young man... who was not waiting at the elevator to start another argument over Bruce's newest limitation: an eleven o'clock bedtime. It seemed slightly ridiculous even to Bruce, when Alfred suggested it, but he had to admit that Clark clearly needed additional rest. But, if Clark wasn't ready for a fight, then... why? 

"Alfred?" 

"Oh, Sunshine... Weeee're up heeeere?" A sickening jolt of fear ran up Bruce's spine as recognized the Joker's voice. 

It was too late for him to go back to the batcave, and he couldn't be certain whether Joker had tied his Bruce Wayne to the Batman, so he had no choice but to face Joker as is. Plucking what weapons he could from their convenient hiding places, in full sight, hanging on the walls as museum relics, Bruce tucked them into every free pocket he could find, up his sleeve and into his boots. 

"What do you want, Joker?" He called as he carefully climbed the stairs watching every shadow for an ambush. 

"Oh, it's not what I want this time.Oh well, maybe it is. A very jolly fellow from the heartland has offered me quite a bundle to retrieve a little puppy dog that got away from him. And I want his money." In his sickening, sing song Joker warbled, "OoooohhhhH, how much is that puhp-pee in the winnnddow? Oh, how much is that puh-uh-uhhp-pee... Can you see?" 

As Bruce turned turned the corner, he saw the Joker press the back of Clark's neck holding him tightly against the window, which was bathed a quick splash of light. He could barely hear a terse answer, but Joker's answer was an estatic "Oooh Gooodiee" as he turned dropping Clark, who crumpled to the floor barely conscious and frighteningly pale in the eerie green light flashing from the Joker's necklace. Into the bizarre cell-phone he had flattening a patch of wiry his green hair, Joker asked, "And the others?... Even better." 

Grinning, Joker snappped the phone shut and tossed it on the bed. 

"Golly, Golly, Golly, isn't this my lucky day. Three for the price of one. Boys, take the puppy down to its new owner, but don't hand him over until I get there." 

As eight bizarrely dressed thugs came out of the shadows, Bruce suddenly understood why there hadn't been an ambush: from the shredded state of their clothing, their rumpled hair, and bruised faces, it clearly taken all eight to subdue Clark and Alfred. As they lifted Clark's supine form, Bruce wasn't certain, but thought that he detected a slight stretch as they moved further toward the door. 

"Sunshine, I just have to thank you for this lovely night. If you hadn't taken in that stray, I wouldn't have five million dollars whisking its way into a swiss bank account right now...Just for that, I'll give you two extra minutes to untie Jeeves, and get him out before this gloomy place gets a little illumination." 

Following the Joker's pointing chin, Bruce realized he had no choice: he would have to let Clark go back to Lionel. Alfred was thoroughly-tied, sitting indian style, on the ground with his arms and legs bent around a large simulation of the Joker's face. A large digital clock that replaced his teeth first read :23 seconds then 1:23, then 2:23. He simply couldn't free them both and Lionel presumably wanted Clark alive for the moment. 

As he dashed over and dropped to his knees by Alfred, Joker and the other 5 thugs walked out. As the Joker walked out, Bruce could have sworn he was singing "You are my sunshine... my only sunshine....." 


End file.
